


To Keep

by themantlingdark



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 21:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: For this request from writernotwaiting:Re: thorki ficlet giveaway -- would you consider writing a fic in response to a poem of mine titled "Preservable Ephemera"? It was posted on my Tumblr, and can be found on the home page under "poetry, part I." Off anon is fine. You decide whether fluff or smut seems best.





	To Keep

 

  
  


Thor’s Christmas list the same from the time he was able to write: “A dog please”. The fat old elf finally deeming him fit for it at age eleven. Bedelia, but more often Bee, Dee, or Deedee. A mutt made of Irish setter, golden retriever, collie, and chow. Fur, fur, fur, and fur, topped off with a purple tongue. Thor forever floating in her wake, cleaning up the long strands of orange before anyone can complain. 

 

Bee’s gleeful, affectionate energy so irresistible Loki is at last tempted outside to play. Games of catch spent chucking tennis balls gone slick with slobber and greener with stuck-on blades of grass. Frisbee, which Odin would have bet money was sacrilege to their bookish indoor boy. Fetch with floating toys in every nearby river and creek, watching the red ball dart away downstream, the dog darting faster, using the current to aid her paddling, then snatching it with her teeth, swerving up onto the bank, and galloping back with her prize, water spraying from the clumped ends of wet fur in great arcs that split the sun into the spectrum.

  
  
  


Thor’s first complaint four years later: “She hasn’t been eating enough lately,” and his insistence on a visit with the vet. A mass in her neck, pressing on her esophagus and Thor crying at the word cancer. Promising if she’s unhappy and in pain he’ll let her go. Money, mercifully, no object. Effort no object to Thor. Surgery to get it out and chemo to clean up any stragglers after. Bandages to change and medicines to give. Bee tired, but her tail still wagging. Thor cooking for her every morning and putting the food through the blender to make it easier to swallow. A trip to the lumber yard with Odin and a ramp appearing off the back deck to spare the dog the jostle of stairs while her wounds are healing. Thor’s mattress dragged down and out onto the floor of the screened porch so she doesn’t have far to walk. The two of them sleeping there together night and day with the songs of cardinals and the soothe of the dew-cooled breeze. 

 

Loki staring at the gap in the fur over Bedelia’s throat. At skin hidden from the sun and kept a ghostly shade of pink. At the lumpy red wound, shiny with the ointment Thor is always spreading on it. The dog smelling of death and Thor smelling of the dog. Loki longing to touch two. Three staying his hand.

  
  
  


Thor waking late in the morning with a yawning stretch of bare ribs, causing a stretch in Loki’s chest that’s easy to mistake for echo. Thor and Bee still on the porch floor in August, but out of pleasure now rather than need. Loki on the chaise lounge at the end of the room, peeking over the edge of his book, pages fluttering at the corners. 

“Did she nip you when she was sick?”

Thor waiting for the answer without rushing it by watching. Bedelia getting up at the sound of his voice, thinking of her breakfast, happy to eat. “I know she got grumpy during chemo.”

“No.” 

“You can pet her again.” Thor doing so himself, scratching her low on the ribs so that she kicks her leg in the air as though she’s scratching herself. “She’s all healed up.”

Loki wide-eyed and slowly nodding, alarmed at having been so well observed amid so much distracting worry.

 

All healed up-- _ for the time being. _ Loki’s mind silently amending. Four years old and a blend of large breeds. Thor’s keen eye and loyalty buying her eight more years at the outside. Loki unable to see anything beyond the ever-descending axe. 

 

_ Axes _ . Wrinkles now on their mother’s neck and only grey hair left on their father’s head. Thor’s shoulders broader, legs longer, jaw sharper every day. And Loki’s own no better. Not even love enough to save them.

  
  
  


Loki waking to find himself pinned beneath the blankets while his thighs are getting slapped, looking up to see Thor sitting on his hips and calling for Bedelia.

“Get him, Bee, it’s after noon!”

Bee happy to oblige, pawing at Loki’s shins and rolling on him, growling in the low, open voice she uses for wrestling, not the high one through gritted teeth that means warning. Loki unable to resist her again, dutifully burying himself in the blankets so that she can dig him up. Obeying her darts and nudges as she herds him downstairs. The unchanged motions of her play keeping the language of childhood alive. Loki relieved to find he’s still fluent.

  
  
  


The last day of spring and Thor’s sixteenth birthday. The car keys waiting in the little box on the breakfast table no surprise to Loki. The car waiting in the driveway under an oversize red ribbon a shock. Not the shiny, fast, six-figure Italian thing Loki would have wagered on. A grey Subaru Forester. Thor grinning and tearing up amid his thanks.

“High safety and reliability ratings.” Thor peeking out of the wet corners of his eyes for the confirmation, already knowing he’s right.

Frigga blushing and smiling with pursed lips before smacking his bottom and sighing. 

“Be careful.”

“Are you coming?” The hope in Thor’s voice and the promise of having time to themselves too much for Loki to pass up. 

“Of course.”

 

Loki pleased to be in the front passenger seat, side by side with his brother; Bee happy as ever to be in the back, leaning into the turns and staring out the windows. The dog park the first stop on their inaugural drive. The regulars welcoming them back, relieved to see Bedelia well and unbowed by her illness. Loki looking out across a fenced-in field where twenty-four cases of guaranteed heartbreak go racing through the grass, barking and boxing and thrashing their tails. But he’s eager to oblige and unable keep from grinning when they come to beg him for bellyrubs. Unmoored by his disappointment when it’s time to leave. Anchored again by Thor’s decision: “She’s too hot. Let’s take her to the lake.” 

 

Stripping down to their underwear at an out-of-the-way dock, skin gone blinding in the sunlight and hair shifting with the wind’s fingers. Shadows beneath their shoulderblades trapping the blue of the sky as they pull their shirts over their heads. The dog flying down the boards and off the end like a red shot, then treading water and waiting for her boys to come tumbling after. 

 

Playing fetch with a stick until their teeth chatter. Dripping dry during a slow walk along the shoreline while Bee sniffs the reeds and points to birds with her wrist. The brothers’ bare elbows and shoulders brushing together, sometimes nudging insistently with the sense of celebration that’s been building in them all day. Buoyed by the tastes of privacy and power granted by the car. Free to come and go at will and unobserved. Free to observe each other. Admire. Attempt to memorize.

 

Changing out of wet boxers and into dry clothes as they lie on their sides in the cargo space of the car, hoping no one pulls up beside them and peeks in. Their bodies gone paler with the cold water, blood retreating further beneath their skin. The hopeless cling of wet cotton and their breathless giggling as they struggle and jostle each other. Shaking with laughter when they see that their cocks and balls have taken a cue from their blood and withdrawn into their bodies for warmth.

“We look like Ken dolls!”

“ _ Purple _ Ken dolls.”

 

Ice cream melting and dribbling down their chins, dripping onto the cake on their plates as they eat on the patio. Loki’s birthday present to Thor an Instax Square, like printable Instagram, and Loki the subject of Thor’s first print. Second. Third. Recorded and deemed worth keeping again and again, the clicks and whirs gently hammering Thor’s choice into Loki’s ears: I’ll take you, you, you. To keep. 

 

The keeping that’s the trouble. Impossible. It keeps Loki up all night. Wandering around the house in the grey dark until his feet take him through Thor’s open door. Bedelia already awake, giving herself away by wagging her tail. She’s in her traditional nest between Thor’s legs, her fur dark against the white sheets, his limbs spread in a wide V to accommodate her, reliably motionless until morning. The thumping of her tail so loud in the sleeping house. She’s hoping for attention, excited by this unexpected visit. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“Did her tail wake you up?”

“I guess so.”

Loki crossing the room to rub her belly. Thor’s quiet  _ oof _ as she rolls over and brings the top of her skull down on his crotch.

“Too much caffeine in the coffee ice cream?” Thor still probing, never one to leave stones unturned.

“I don’t know how long the prints will last. I couldn’t find out because the camera’s so new.”

“Probably last my lifetime if I keep them out of the sun. Good enough for who it’s for.”

Loki laughing at his brother’s ease. Thor’s self-deprecating cliché shearing away oceans of time. Reducing the universe to the personally relevant and possible. Discarding what cannot be had and, therefore, cannot be lost. Loki bending to set a grateful kiss to Thor’s forehead. Thor’s sleep-warm hand on the back of Loki’s neck, steering him down slightly for a peck on the lips.

“Thank you for the camera.”

The words smelling of toothpaste instead of ice cream and birthday cake, but the mint still cool and sweet against Loki’s skin. Thor’s fingers idly raking the curls at the nape of Loki’s neck and Loki bending two more times to kiss his brother on the mouth. I’ll take you, you, you. To keep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please don't comment or repost


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